Forever, Darling
by Never Mind the Turtles
Summary: Alec just can't take it anymore, Magnus finds that without him life's not worth living. Undoubtedly the most depressing thing I've written to date. Rated T for suicide/depression. **Trigger warning: suicide**


**Forever, Darling**

Alec was in the apartment. Magnus knew it as soon as he opened the door. The wards were bent in the way they got when someone with permission passed through them, and Alec's scent hung in the air. Also, Chairman Meow's bowl was full, something that usually only happened when Alec made an appearance. Magnus mostly trusted the cat to hunt down his own food, him being a cat and all. He hadn't even bought dry cat food at all until Alec came along, and he made a point not to use it. He didn't want his cat getting too dependent. Cat food in the bowl meant Alec in the house.

Good. Magnus could use some cheering up. The kelpie baby he had been called down to the Bronx for had hung on to life for all it was worth, but in the end the iron poisoning had won out and there had been nothing he could do. It had been awful and depressing and the only things he could think of to help would be to get drunk or spend the night with his boyfriend. Since he had no good alcohol in the house and didn't have the energy to go out and buy some, and since Alec was already here, the choice was simple. Maybe they'd watch the Princess Bride, which Magnus had been trying to get him to watch all month. Or maybe they'd marathon the Harry Potter movies again. Alec seemed to like those—close enough to his home ground to relate to, Magnus guessed.

Humming to himself, he went to the bedroom to divest himself of his coat. The bathroom door was shut and locked, and the light was on. He thought briefly of banging on the door and yelling just for the heck of it, but decided not to. The last time he'd tried to surprise Alec like that, he'd gotten a broken nose for his trouble. Though admittedly, it had been worth it to see the look on his face.

Instead he threw his coat into the depths of the closet, eyed the mess inside, and made a mental note to clean it up later—something he did nearly every time he looked in there—and wandered off to the kitchen in search of something to eat. He'd been out all day and hadn't stopped for lunch, and he was starving.

Bypassing the leftover Chinese chicken and spaghetti from who knows when, he came up with half a pot roast and decided it would do. Of course Chairman Meow had to show up just then and of course instead of catching his own dinner like a good cat he begged for some of Magnus's, and of course Magnus couldn't resist those blue eyes…

_Alec is taking an awfully long time in the bathroom,_ he though ten minutes later, snuggled on the kitchen floor with a quarter of a pot roast and his cat. Granted, taking a long time in the bathroom was what Magnus had been practically begging him to do for the past several months, so he figured he shouldn't complain. Maybe Alec was finally taking an interest in his appearance.

Grinning at the thought, Magnus stood and put the roast away. As he closed the refrigerator door, something—among the various pamphlets and coupons that he always meant to use, the glittery cat-shaped magnets and the card he had gotten from some girl that one time—caught his eye. It was an envelope, attached to one of his magnetic cats, made of expensive-looking cream parchment, and it had _Magnus _written on it in calligraphy. He eyed it for a moment, weighing the chances that it might be dangerous against the chances that it might be important. Finally his curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled it down and opened it. Nothing exploded. So far, so good. His eyes skipped down to the signature at the bottom. It was Alec's. Satisfied, he returned to the top and began to read.

_My dearest Magnus,_

A warning bell went off in his head. Alec never called him his dearest anything unless something was very, very wrong.

_My dearest Magnus, _he read again, just to make sure he'd gotten it right. Then, _I'm sorry. I am so very sorry._

After this were many blots and scribbles and cross-outs. The warning bell was clanging wildly now.

_My dearest Magnus,_

_I am sorry. I am so very sorry. I really don't know what else to say, other than "I'm sorry". You'll be looking for an explanation, and I can't give you one. I can only tell you that it was finally too much, and I couldn't take it anymore. It's not like I'm going to make it to the end of this war anyway. You just watch—it would have been useless me getting killed off while Jace and Isabelle make it out alive, because they are worth something and I am not._

_That's really all I can think of to say, other than I love you. And I do love you. I love you more than anything. Please don't think that I don't, or that this is your fault, because it's not. It's anything but._

_You told me that we could be together forever, and I could tell that you meant it. But forever is an awfully long time. I'm sorry I couldn't make it to forever with you. And since I never had a chance to say it to you:_

_Goodbye, Magnus, my darling, my love._

_ Alec _

Magnus dropped the paper. It hit the floor with a whisper, which was directly opposite of the screaming going on inside his head. He felt frozen. Slowly, he made himself turn to the hall, and suddenly he was running. He reached the bathroom door faster then he ever had in his life and stopped, leaning against it, pressing his ear to the wood and praying for something, anything, any noise from within.

Nothing.

Heart beating much faster than it should, he unlocked the door with a snap of his fingers and carefully, quietly pushed it open. There was no exclamation from inside for that crazy warlock to just leave him _alone. _There was only silence.

Magnus closed his eyes, heart thudding against his chest like a wild thing trying to escape, and would have thought he was going to be sick if his brain weren't stuck on repeat, one word running through his head over and over.

_No no no no no no no._

He swallowed hard, opened his eyes. Forced his brain to process what was in front of him. Taking it slowly, one thing at a time.

There was blood. Lots of it, mixed with water and running along the cracks in the floor. There was a dagger, newly sharpened, glinting silver in the fluorescent light.

And there was Alec.

Pale, eyes closed, hand open where the dagger had fallen out of it. Not moving. Not breathing.

Gone.

_Alec._

Magnus found he was shaking, hands trembling at his sides, knees rattling. He clutched the doorframe for support. He wanted to hold his boyfriend, to heal him, but he knew that was impossible. Alec had passed beyond even a warlock's reach. Instead he backed out of the bathroom and went to the bedroom, where he sat on the mattress and stared at his hands.

_Why? What had he done to push Alec over the edge? Why now? He had thought Alec was _happy.

His phone—Alec's phone—lay forgotten on the dresser. Numbly, Magnus picked it up and hunted through the contacts until he found the correct number. Numbly, he selected it and pushed call. It rang four times before it was picked up.

"Alec? Where are you, you left without telling anyone and we've been so worried—"

"Isabelle?" Magnus felt terrible for doing this to her. "Isabelle…we have a problem."

Magnus sat on the steps outside his apartment with his head in his hands and Chairman Meow at his side. He had avoided going into the apartment for three days, now, ever since the incident. He had summoned clothes when he needed them and money when he didn't have enough on his person. He had a headache now that seemed to be eating away at his eyes, though he knew he deserved it. He'd gotten himself blind drunk the night before in an effort to drown the loneliness. It had worked, for a while, but now it had worn off and he felt even worse than before.

Dimly he became aware that someone hat sat down next to him. He lifted his head to see who it was.

Isabelle. Of course.

For the past three days, Isabelle was the only one who treated him as if he wasn't scum. The rest of the Shadowhunters behaved as though it were somehow his fault that Alec was dead. They wouldn't be convinced otherwise, no matter what he said. He hadn't even been invited to the funeral.

Since it had been a suicide, there was no pomp and circumstance. No burning at the pier, like he knew Alec would have liked. There was no honor in suicide. This would smudge the name of Lightwood forever.

"It wasn't your fault, you know." Isabelle's voice reached him through the fog of his own brain. "There was nothing you could have done."

He looked at her and blinked, knowing that she would never understand what he was feeling at the moment. Flighty Isabelle, who could never hang on to one thought—or one boy—for more than a few moments at a time. Strong Isabelle, who had been through so much and still retained that youthful quality. He rather liked Isabelle, usually, but now she just reminded him of what he no longer had.

"I know you're beating yourself up in your head, Magnus. I know you think it's somehow your fault."

He put his head back in his hands and wished she weren't always right.

"It can't be easy, with everyone blaming you. Everyone thinking that you did it."

He made a umdistinguishable noise that could have been anything from "Yes" to "Go away." She took it as neither and went on.

"They can blame you all they like. I know you wouldn't do that. I've seen the way you look at him. _Looked—_God, it's going to be hard to get used to that."

And suddenly she was crying. "I've lost Max—I've lost Alec—what if I lose Jace next?" And Magnus found himself forcibly reminded that he wasn't the only one broken by Alec's choice.

It was nearly six weeks before he found it in him to go back inside the apartment. He'd wandered around town, taken a surprise trip to Rome—which only served to remind him of his and Alec's unfinished vacation—he'd been planning on honeymooning here. Not that Alec had agreed to marry him. Yet. It would have taken quite a bit longer than the few months they had had to convince him, but Magnus was sure he could have brought him around. Now he never would.

The apartment, once he had worked up to courage to venture back inside, was disgusting. There was dust on everything, enough dust that Magnus could write his name in it and probably draw a full-scale rendition of the Eiffel Tower. It was obvious that the cat had been bringing things back here to play with as well, not all of them quite dead but none of them alive any longer. There were feathers on the television.

He went to the kitchen first, and then immediately went out again. The smell was overpowering. He had just time to see that the note was still on the floor, right where he'd left it.

He entered the livingroom instead, sank into the red plush sofa that he'd left there. It released puffs of dust when he sat down.

He really should clean this place up. At least he'd have something productive to do. He had disconnected his cell phone and refused to take any business calls. He couldn't find the courage to help other people's loved ones when he couldn't help his own.

He snapped his fingers half-heartedly in the general vicinity of most of the dust, and in return it attempted to make itself into a half-hearted pile but stopped halfway through. His magic reserves were still down considerably—something that tended to happen to warlocks who were experiencing grief. Even the thought of clearing up the house by magic exhausted him. He sighed and got up to get a broom.

Half an hour later, he gave up on the living room and wandered into the kitchen to see what he could to about that awful smell. Dust he could live with. The smell of rotting food, though, not so much.

He tackled the breadbasket first, binning moldy dinner rolls and a loaf of bread as hard as a rock. The fruit basket was a bit more difficult, as most of the residents therein wanted to cling to the counter, the basket and each other. One of the oranges had a lovely colony of ants in it. The apples were so far beyond repair that Magnus wondered if they had ever even been apples.

The refrigerator was by far the most difficult. He took out the potroast from that long-ago day and wondered vaguely if it had grown an ecosystem yet. It certainly looked like it.

He was attempting to rid himself of the very, very old spaghetti when something crunched under his foot.

The note, that he had tried so hard to forget.

He shoved it away as quickly as possible, but not before his eyes caught one sentence, near the bottom.

_You told me that we could be together forever._

Forever.

He'd known when he said it that they couldn't be together forever. They had been snuggling on the couch at the time, mostly ignoring Magnus's favorite episode of Glee, and it had seemed like a loving and romantic thing to say.

_"I'll be with you forever, darling."_

He hadn't thought that Alec would take him so seriously.

_Forever, darling._

_Forever._

Now Magnus had a forever to look forward to without Alec. No blue eyes looking sleepily up at him in the morning as the sun streamed through the window. No scarred yet delicate hands sharing his pasta when they went out to eat at that Italian restaurant that Alec had liked so much. No soft laughter as they laid on their backs in the sun in Central Park.

No more Alec.

Magnus didn't think he could stand to live another day without Alec. He couldn't stand the thought of the hundreds, the thousands of years he had left on this earth, with nothing new to do and no one new to meet. It was cruel, so cruel, that out of all of his years he had only been truly happy for a few months.

He found, to his vague surprise, that he had wandered from the kitchen to the supply closet that held all the odds and ends that didn't go in his study or the rest of the house. What was he doing here, again?

His hand, seemingly of its own accord, had found its way into one of the boxes and out again with a bundle. He watched bemusedly, as if from outside his own body, as his feet took him to the bedroom. His hands dragged the desk chair to the middle of the room, his legs stood him up on it, tying one end of the bundle to the ceiling fan.

Then they paused, as if waiting for him to give permission, or to yell "NO" and step down. He didn't do either of those things. Instead he surveyed the situation, wondering vaguely what on earth he was doing. If he didn't think about it too hard, he rather approved.

His hands had tied the other end of the bundle of rope around his neck, almost without his realizing it. He thought of Alec, driven to near insanity and finally death by so many little, unavoidable things. He briefly wondered if he himself was insane. Probably.

"I'm coming for you, Alec," he whispered to the empty room. "I won't let you face what's out there alone.

"I said forever, darling."

He stepped off the chair.


End file.
